


Child Is Slowly Taken

by lighthouseglow



Series: The Tales That Really Matter [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aggression, Bullying, Canon Backstory, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Inspired by Music, King Alistair, Mage Origin, Personal Canon, Warden Queen (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 19:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lighthouseglow/pseuds/lighthouseglow
Summary: But you see it's not meIt's not my familyIn your head, in your headThey are fighting...-Zombie by The Cranberries





	Child Is Slowly Taken

I never liked my birth name, to begin with. That was the one thing that made going to the Ostwick Circle bearable, throwing that clunky Orlesian name away when they came for me at fourteen—by then, I couldn’t hide my powers anymore. “Lady Au—”

“I _don’t_ want to use that name,” I interrupted the templar. “If you’re taking me to the Circle, I don’t want to use it. I didn’t choose it.”

Mother shot me a look of disapproval, but said nothing; even the nobility were struck dumb against the templars and their power. “That’s a reasonable request since you’re coming willingly… What name would you prefer…Lady Trevelyan?” the templar asked.

I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or not; in those days, I cared more about how people viewed me. It was an easy answer: something simple and pretty that rolled off the tongue. Ferelden’s warrior queen, who had just ascended the throne with her husband King Alistair, bore the name. Pretty but common and not at all unique. “Lily.”

The templar chuckled, this tall, intimidating man in armor that creaked. “Giving yourself airs, are you, little one? Taking Queen Lily Cousland’s name like that?”

“I think it’s pretty and it is a…common name,” I mumbled, looking at my lap. I wanted us to leave the huge, seemingly empty house and get it over with. I remember my brown hair was braided that day, one long braid down my back. “Will I be allowed to come back, ser? All my books are here and…”

“We’ll see,” the man said. “Depends on how good you are. Now, we really need to be going…”

Father came to give me a tight hug and whispered, “Whatever you do, sweetheart, don’t cross them.”

I nodded and the second templar took my little trunk outside; they would only let me take two personal objects with me. “You’re lucky,” they said, “because in Ferelden they only let you take one.” I took a biography of the first Grey Wardens and a blue plush dragon I treasured named Toothless. I didn’t let go of him during the extremely long journey to the Ostwick Circle, even if the templars thought I was childish. Hang them and their opinions! We took a simple cart, as I remember, to attract as little attention as possible; I remember I ate a roast beef sandwich when we stopped for lunch, scared and intimidated by the strange men. I knew they thought I was a freak, I knew they didn’t know what to do with me, even if I was from a noble family. _Normal_ noble girls never caused their governess’s hands to get frostbite because they’d frozen her hands out of anger.

…Oh, yes, I may not look like it, but I do get angry if pushed too far and I will hurt the people who are hurting me. When you’re hurting, you think of nothing else but striking back, making them hurt as much as you are…and, thankfully, with my Maker-given gifts I can sometimes do so. Other than that, I try to be kind and understanding whenever possible.

“One rule you should know, milady,” said the leader of the two templars with me, “is that if you step out of line at the Circle, you’re dead. Be thankful you weren’t born in Kirkwall or Ferelden, as they’re more restrictive than we are.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered softly. “Can—May I take a nap, please?”

“We do have several hours of travel, Commander.”

“Let the little mage bitch sleep if she wants,” the commander growled. “Maker knows she won’t have time for it when we get there.” It was the first time I’d ever been exposed to profanity outside of home and it wouldn’t be the last; no one had ever called me a bitch before. “Don’t cross them,” Father had said, so I bent my knees as best I could and slept curled up in the back of the cart, cuddling Toothless all the while.

For the moment, that dragon and my new name, Lily, was all I had.


End file.
